


Crossed Wires

by GemmaRose



Category: Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers: Prime
Genre: Cannibalism, Established Relationship, Hand Feeding, Kinks, M/M, Messy, Murder, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Bumblebee knows what a Good Autobot should find attractive. Vibrant paint, fine detailing, a tender spark. Good little Autobots don't get revved up watching a Decepticon tear their opponent limb from limb in a spray of energon and oil and eat one of said limbs.But then again, a good little Autobot wouldn't be fragging said Decepticon already in the first place.
Relationships: Blitzwing/Bumblebee
Comments: 3
Kudos: 136





	Crossed Wires

**Author's Note:**

> Highkey inspired by [this art](https://shapeofmetal.tumblr.com/post/618213856832094208/).

Bumblebee huffed and kicked a fallen tree branch, breaking part of it off and sending it flying. He knew it wasn’t the other Autobots’ fault that they were stuck here, the Other Ratchet had said something about an artifact and groundbridge, Megatron, Soundwave. Honestly, Bumblebee had stopped paying a whole lot of attention after the first few sentences. He was just a repair bot, knowing where to put the pieces didn’t mean he knew _why_ they needed to be there, or anything about programming a bridge. The Other Bumblebee, though... he was a proper soldier. He’d faced Megatron in hand to hand combat and lived to, well, not exactly tell the tale, but if Bumblebee tried a stunt like that he’d lose a lot more than his vocaliser.

So, stomping through the woods and kicking fallen branches. It was better by far than sitting around at base watching Optimus get overshadowed, literally and metaphorically, by his own alternate self. At least Ratchet and Other Ratchet got along, and Bulkhead and Prowl didn’t have doubles. Something behind him snapped, and Bumblebee only narrowly ducked the blaster bolt which followed. He twisted, stingers activating with a crackle of electricity, and cursed at the sight of one of the strange new Decepticons who’d arrived with the Other Autobots.

“Looking for a fight?” he challenged, optics flicking around the sorry excuse for a clearing they were in. Minimal maneuverability, but these pseudo-mechs were the size of Optimus, so that was an advantage actually. All he needed was one good shot to its wings...

“Zhere you are!” a familiar voice cackled, and Bumblebee could only blink in surprise as Blitzwing came crashing down through the canopy, Hothead grinning maniacally and energon streaming from one of his wings. “Thought you could get away from me?” he lashed out, but the vehicon was faster, ducking his talons and popping up behind him to blast his already injured wing. Bumblebee winced.

“Hey, lame-face!” he shouted, drawing the voiceless jet’s attention, and Random’s face split in a manic smile as he spun, grabbing the distracted vehicon by its helm and one arm and _ripping_. Bumblebee’s fuel pump stuttered in his chest, jaw falling open and optics going wide as his interfacing protocols attempted to come online. He shut them down, taking his stingers with, but Blitzwing wasn’t a threat. Not to him, at least. Not alone.

“You’re hurt.” he said, moving towards Blitzwing slowly, sidling into his field of vision before approaching more than a few steps. He was no medic, but fighting the Decepticons here on Earth had quickly taught him how to evaluate what could and couldn’t be left to self-repair. Even heavily armoured as he was, that vehicon’s blaster at point blank range had left a hole in Blitzwing’s wing large enough for Bumblebee to stick his fist through. That wasn’t the only injury either, now that he was closer he could see the marks of a dogfight littered across both Decepticons’ frames.

“Vhat I am, little bug.” Icy’s face spun into view, expression stern as ever. “Is _hungry_.” his optics narrowed fractionally, and Bumblebee rolled his with a scoff.

“I’m not ‘facing you when you’re bleeding out.” he deadpanned. Really, he’d expect this kind of thing from Hothead, but Icy was usually the most rational of Blitzwing’s personalities.

“Alright.” Blitzwing smirked, lowering himself to one knee far more gingerly than he usually moved and picking up the vehicon’s arm. And then he brought it up to his face and took a bite.

“Wha-” Bumblebee could only stare as, before his optics, Blitzwing devoured the entire limb, abdominal armour clicking and sliding against itself as it transformed from tightly locked plates into something far more flexible, more vulnerable. His optics flitted between Blitzwing’s mouth and the slight bulge in his abdomen, and belatedly he realized the insistent pings in the corner of his HUD were requests to open his modesty panels and release his straining spike. That- that shouldn’t be hot. Blitzwing sat down heavily, half on top of the dead Decepticon, and wrenched off one of its wings.

Bumblebee remembered, vaguely, a story he’d heard in training. Decepticons were mech-eaters. Wasp had joked that if they just kept the glitches out long enough they’d cannibalize themselves to nothing and take care of the problem for them. He’d dismissed it as rumours, a horror story told to cadets to keep them in line, but apparently it was true. And weirdly hot. That- it shouldn’t be hot, that was a _corpse_. Glorified drone or no, the dark jet had been a living Decepticon, and Blitzwing was just- eating them!

“You’re staring.” Icy informed him, and Bumblebee hurriedly looked for something else to focus on. “Have you never seen a mech fuel before?” he asked, field flickering with the lightest shade of curiosity underlying his usual cool disdain, and oh wow when had Bumblebee gotten close enough to feel his field? How had he not noticed the smell of spilled fuel and other various life-fluids soaking into the forest floor? It was nearly overpowering now that he was aware of it, the smell of death thick in the air around them. Primus, what was wrong with him, that this did absolutely nothing to dampen his charge?

“Never on a corpse.” he fired back, his voice thankfully steady, though he had to bite back a whimper when Blitzwing bit off another chunk of his the vehicon’s wing, optics involuntarily flicking down to the growing swell of what must be his fuel tank expanding to fit so much solid material.

“Ah, right.” Blitzwing turned the wing in his hand, now little more than a ragged-edged plate of armour. Bumblebee’s optics followed the motion, the rush of fuel in his audials drowning out all background noise. “You Autobots cannot process insolubles.”

“Insolubles?” Bumblebee’s voice sounded very far away to his own audials, spike pressing against the inside of his modesty panels so hard it kinda hurt.

“Solids.” Bitzwing took another bite. Bumblebee was distantly aware of his fans kicking on. “You must rely on your medic.”

“Oh.” Bumblebee nodded, processor whirring through the available data. Decepticons were forged for war, medics weren’t. Anything a medic would have to treat, their self-repair would need to be able to handle instead in case their medic didn’t make it. The metals needed for armour formation weren’t fuel-soluble, which meant that Decepticons needed to be able to ingest them in whatever form was available in order for their self-repair to do its job. “Do you... need help?”

Blitzwing stared down at him, optics cold and field probing. His face spun, Random baring jagged denta in his signature manic grin even as he scarfed down the last of the wing in his hand. “Only in making room for more.” he leered, leaning back and popping his panels. Bumblebee let his part as well, spike shooting to full pressure and lubricant splashing his thighs. Primus, why was he so revved up from this? Blitzwing’s bleeding had largely stopped, but he was still covered in energon, both his own and the blue stuff that vehicons and the Other Autobots bled. It shouldn’t be attractive, let alone arousing, and yet...

Bee straddled Blitzwing’s hips, and when his lover stuck a sharp thumb in his mouth he sucked automatically, glossa sliding along the flat planes of the digit, cleaning it of the strange blue energon. It tasted odd, and his sensors couldn’t get a read on what made it different from the times he’d tasted his own energon, but Bumblebee couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He leaned forwards, resting his hands on the swell of Blitzwing’s abdomen, and shivered at the warmth radiating from Blitzwing’s tank. He wanted- wanted to feel more of that, wanted to press his whole chassis to that warmth, trap the heat inside Blitzwing’s frame with his own. Sure it came from Blitzy’s frame processing a corpse, but Other Ratchet had assured them that vehicons weren’t sentient, and it had been trying to kill them both besides. It wasn’t that different from humans eating dead animals, right?

Yeah, he could roll with that.

“So wet already.” Blitzwing purred, trading his thumb for two more fingers. “Are you ready for me yet, Hummelchen?”

Bumblebee shook his helm slightly, sucking harder on Blitzwing’s fingers as he removed a hand from his lover’s belly to reach down and begin prepping himself. Three of his own fingers fit easily, a testament to how revved up he was already, but that wasn’t half enough unless he wanted Ratchet asking some _really_ awkward questions. Icy purred, offering his last two dirty fingers for Bumblebee to suck clean, and Bumblebee did so readily, working faster now that his lover’s claws were blunted. Blitzwing pushed his fingers deep enough Bumblebee could only whimper around them, his hand on his lover’s belly flexing against that intoxicating warmth, fingers catching in unfamiliar seams.

“Frag me.” he gasped when Blitzwing freed his mouth. “Please, please-” he rose up on his knees, and let out a soft cry when Blitzwing slipped a finger into his valve, then a second. He pulled his own hand out, bracing it on Blitzwing’s belly again as he rocked back onto the digits spreading him. It wasn’t long at all before Blitzwing added a third finger, and Bumblebee couldn’t help the sub-glyphic trill of excitement that left his vocaliser when Blitzwing removed his fingers, hand moving to grip Bumblebee’s hip instead.

Blitzwing’s spike was, as always, perfect. Big enough to push Bumblebee’s frame to its limits, with enough current running through it to amp his charge up so high so fast Blitzwing could burn him out if he wanted, a promise of danger that would never grow stale. Bumblebee revved his engine, leaning forward to press his whole frame against Blitzwing’s front, the heat even more intense now. “Come on, big guy. I know that’s not all you’ve got.”

“Incorrigible little bug.” Blitzwing murmured, wrapping his hands around Bumblebee’s thighs and holding him still to be thrust up into. Bumblebee moaned, loud and shameless, and dug his fingers into the new seams of Blitzwing’s armour.

“You lo- love it.” he moaned, optics flickering off as his sensornet prioritized other inputs. Blitzwing’s spike stretching his valve to capacity, Blitzwing’s frame hot under him, Blitzwing’s claws encircling his thighs, each thrust pulling at his hip joints. The smell of hot metal and lubricant mingling with the stench of death, the aberrant scent like a jolt straight to his pleasure centers and _Primus_ he needed to not think about this right now. Or ever, probably.

“Harder.” he demanded, and wailed when Blitzwing gave him just that, thrusting up into him with wild abandon. He fumbled with his HUD for a moment and pulled up is internal systems monitor, drawing the stress threshold of his hip servos into focus. “Harder.” he gasped, fans clicking higher and higher as each thrust pushed the numbers on his HUD further into the yellow, closer to red.

He’d always had a few wires crossed, loved danger just a little too much. Blitzwing could take him apart without even having to kick his engine into gear and somehow, knowing now what Decepticons _did_ with the bits of their enemies they brought home, knowing that the sound of things breaking were coming from a partially-eaten mutual enemy, that was even hotter. Blitzwing’s claws bit into his thighs as his lover stopped holding back entirely, and the flare of pain from his hips as Blitzwing slammed up into him pushed him over the edge just as much as the spray of hot, charged transfluid against his ceiling node.

He came down from the high slowly, Blitzwing’s spike rocking in his valve sending mini-overloads rolling through his frame every few thrusts. His lover’s frame was still hot beneath him, but the swell of his tank had gone down to nearly nothing. To any of the other Autobots it might’ve been unnoticeable, but Bumblebee was far more familiar with Blitzwing’s frame than any Autobot really had a right to be, yet another thing which was relegated to the Not Thinking About folder as soon as it flitted through his processor. He really should purge those files soon.

Blitzwing shifted slightly under him, and Bumblebee booted his optics to see his lover picking at the now thoroughly smashed up vehicon frame. Primus, Blitzwing was absolutely covered in blue energon now. Why was that so slagging hot? It wasn’t the right colour to be transfluid or lubricant or any of his own internal fluids, so why- Bumblebee looked down, and his fuel pump stuttered in his chest at the sight of a streaky blue handprint wrapped around his right thigh, with more flecks of the stuff splattered across his sides.

Primus, he was a mess, even moreso than usual, but Blitzwing was worse. Bumblebee looked up at his lover, and his spark did a funny twist in its casing at the sight of Blitzwing with a pile of thoroughly pulverized scrap cupped in his palm, dumping it into his mouth like a human might a handful of chips.

“All zhese little pieces.” Blitzwing huffed once he’d swallowed the metal, lifting another handful of scrap and contemplating it, as if trying to decide how best to get it in his mouth.

“I could feed them to you.” Bumblebee blurted out, and Blitzwing’s optics flicked over to him, field prodding his uriously, a wordless prompt to continue. “My hands are smaller. I can, uh, pick the pieces up easier?” he trailed off, kneading his hands against the shrinking curve of Blitzwing’s belly. It hadn’t been a proper person, just a glorified drone, and it was scrap now either way, a mess of parts and fluids. Blitzwing could render him down to much the same, and the thought made Bumblebee’s whole array _throb_.

“Alright.” Blitzwing acquiesced, leaning back on one elbow. “You won’t be able to reach my mouth from there, though.”

Bumblebee nodded eagerly, not bothering to suppress a shuddery moan as he lifted himself up off of Blitzwing’s spike, which began to depressurise as soon as it was free of his valve. His hips hurt too badly to walk right now, something self-repair would _probably_ get to if he took a nap before heading back to base, and as he scooted up Blitzwing’s chassis the heat radiating from his lover’s belly sank into his valve. Primus, that felt good. He had to scoot just past it to be in comfortable reach of Blitzwing’s mouth, though, and straddling the mech’s lower chest was far from friendly to his aching hip struts. He really, really hoped self-repair would get to those. That was not an injury he wanted to try explaining away to Ratchet.

Blitzwing offered him the handful of scrap, and Bumblebee grabbed a piece blindly. It might’ve once been a landing light, or an optic, but now it was neither, just a piece of scrap made of materials Blitzwing’s frame needed. “Open up.” he said, offering the maybe-optic to Blitzwing.

Random grinned at him and leaned forward, glossa wrapping around Bumblebee’s hand, licking the mixed fluids from it as he drew the piece of scrap into his mouth, flipping back to Icy as he chewed and swallowed. Bumblebee grabbed another piece of scrap, and this time Blitzwing leaned forward to take it from his hand, denta scraping over his fingers. Bumblebee bit back a whimper, but couldn’t help how his valve clenched, fresh lubricant flushing more of blitzwing’s transfluid out of his frame to wet his lover’s armour.

“You’re enjoying this, Hummelchen.” Blitzwing smirked.

“Shut up.” Bumblebee huffed, holding two larger pieces of scrap out this time. “You need it for your self-repair, right?”

“Ja.” Blitzwing took the scrap in his mouth, and reached down to scoop more up into his free hand while Bumblebee watched him chew. “I could fuel myself faster, but you enjoy it.”

“Do you want me to feed you faster?” Bumblebee frowned, looking from the scrap in his hand to Blitzwing’s mouth, mentally calculating just how much space one of his handfuls would take up in there.

“Do you want me to rip your limbs off like the insect you are?!” Hothead yelled. Bee snatched a handful of scrap out of Blitzwing’s palm and stuffed it in his lover’s mouth, hooking the index finger of his other hand into the gap between two of Hothead’s denta to stop his lover from changing faces. Blitzwing tried to yell something as Bumblebee snatched another fistful of scrap, but the metal in his mouth effectively muffled it to uninteligibility.

“Eat up!” he chirped, pushing as much cheer into his field as he could manage, layering on so many happy subglyphs the words turned cloying on his glossa. Blitzwing shut his mouth as soon as Bumblebee’s fingers were free, chewing angrily, visor focused on Bumblebee. He swallowed, and Bumblebee leaned back, palming the subtle swell of Blitzwing’s belly. “Still hungry, big guy?”

Hothead smiled, and Bumblebee’s engine revved. “Let’s see how fast I can fill you up, huh?” he purred, bracing a hand on Blitzwing’s chest as he leaned forwards to scoop up another handful of scrap from the sticky mess beneath them. As much raw material as Blitzwing needed, another round, and he had a feeling they’d be going their separate ways again. Not for good, of course, but for now. Maybe next time he’d ask to spar, try and put a hole in Blitzy’s wing himself so he had an excuse to do this again.

Though he could live without a corpse being involved, next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe the majority of my TFA knowledge comes from One More Time Optimus Prime?
> 
> Apologies to any not-logged-in readers, but due to an ex who refuses to leave me alone (and who I now have to wait another month to take to court, _thanks_ Rona) I have had to disable anon comments. Kudos are still open though, and if you want to scream (or would like me to write a fic for you as this was written for SirenSong) come check me out on Pillowfort! No account required to get my discord, and I'm always happy to chat. [[Link](https://www.pillowfort.social/GemmaRose)]


End file.
